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Laurel

The former Queen of Velmara, Esther Vicant, was known across the realm for her ethereal beauty. Daughter of the infamous Luxar Andomer, the third most powerful fae in the kingdom of Velmara after the King and his heir, Esther met a tragic end. Her untimely accident left the kingdom of Velmara grieving her loss. Centuries later, she is still considered the standard of beauty for fae females in Velmara.

The Secrets and Stories of Velmara

I take extra time dressing that evening for whatever Thorne has planned, my stomach dancing with nerves. After trying on at least six different gowns, I decide on a deep olive-colored chiffon dress. As I survey the dress in the mirror, I realize this is the second time I’ve unconsciously selected a dress that matches Thorne’s exact eye color. The thought should scare me, but I find that it doesn’t, and I like the way the dark green brings out the bright green of my own eyes. I keep my hair loose and only apply the lightest tint of makeup to enhance my features, no sign of the Witch Queen costume. The only jewelry I wear is Thorne’s lightning bolt necklace, a gift that becomes more and more precious to me every day.

When I’m finished getting ready, I observe the full effect. I’ve always been unsure of my appearance, have always questioned whether my curves made me beautiful or blemished. Thorne’s own father had found me wanting, claiming I wasn’t half as beautiful as his first wife, Thorne’s mother. Would that impact Thorne’s view of me?

I’ve seen depictions of the former Queen of Velmara. She was flawless, tall and lithe like so many fae females. Delicate features, elegant and airy in appearance, with dewy skin that practically glowed from the inside out. Her long, toned and tan legs are on display in every picture I’ve ever encountered of her, peeking through high slits on her clothing. And I couldn’t be more different—shorter than most fae, with wide hips, full breasts, and thick thighs. Even my stark white skin, that won’t tan no matter how long I’m in the sun, is unique. For so long, it didn’t matter to me, because the Witch Queen is supposed to be different, exuding confidence and a sensual demeanor, not bothered by things as petty as appearances. But Laurel —I’m not exactly sure how the female beneath the cold mask feels about not being the right body type to be beautiful.

A knock at the door startles me out of my thoughts. I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing the chiffon and pulling the neckline of the dress lower to show more cleavage. I know my breasts affect Thorne, so I rely on that feature, hoping he’ll overlook everything else about me that’s different from how females are supposed to look. I cross the room and open the door.

Thorne leans against the doorframe, arms confidently crossed, the very picture of a debonair prince. Not for the first time, I’m reminded of how different we truly are. My mate is effortlessly casual, suave, and comfortable in his own skin. I could never pull off the grace he so easily embodies, nor am I naturally likeable. He’s dressed more formally than usual, a crisp navy suit with cream accents—his signature colors. No gold, no tie to Mazus and Velmara. His hair is slicked back, though pieces fall in his face as always. Those eyes, that I once thought defined Mazus and the entire kingdom of Velmara, openly drift up and down my body, taking in every part of me. I immediately feel the need to look away, to suppress my attraction to him and hide how his assessing gaze affects me, but he catches the movement and lifts my chin so I’m forced to meet his eyes.

“You look stunning, Laurel,” he says resolutely, like he’s trying to speak it into my very being. I feel my cheeks heat and I want to look away again, but his fingers keep my gaze locked on his. Gently, he caresses my lips with a finger and cups my cheek. “Aethers, you’re so beautiful.” Satisfied he’s praised me enough, he lets go of my face before threading his fingers through mine. “Ready for our date?” he asks with his usual devilish grin, though there’s something in it that’s reserved only for me, like a secret between the two of us that no one else knows about. It gives me butterflies in my stomach that are not wholly unpleasant.

“How can I be ready, when I don’t know what we’re doing ? Also, you better not be expecting me to walk down all these stairs in this dress.” His lips twitch in amusement.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, witchling. You can aerstep us to the outskirts of Arberly, to the path from the palace into the city.” I keep his hand in mine as I take us there. The foliage has already started its regrowth, and the early blooms of flowering trees and shoots of spring flowers line the path. The air is still quite brisk, but I don’t feel its chill, too heated from being in Thorne’s presence. He wraps my arm in his and leads us into Arberly, though our fingers stay threaded even in this gesture, like he can’t bear to let me go.

“Where are we going?” I ask, impatience to know the plan seeping into my tone. He smirks.

“Right now, we’re just strolling through town. Enjoy the moment, witchling.”

“Fine,” I say with a huff, and he laughs.

“You truly never give up even an inch of control, do you?” The words are chastising, but he’s smiling like he likes it.

“No, because I’m the Queen of a mysterious kingdom and most people are terrified of me, even when they know I’m not what the stories whisper of me. Really gives me the upper hand,” I say, baring my teeth in a mock hiss.

“Your Witch Queen act won’t work on me. I’ve seen you giggle while reading romance books. Or, to use your term, saucy books,” he quips, then pulls me closer into his side. He stops us, turning me into him. He pushes a piece of my hair behind my ear, and the touch makes me shiver. He leans in, whispering with a throaty growl. “I can assure you that when I have you like those romance books you read, giggling will be the furthest thing from your mind.” My skin tingles and my thighs clench together with need. An image of his face between my thighs, hot breath tingling across my skin, crosses my mind unbidden. My toes curl and my mouth goes dry. I lean into him, desperate for more of his touch, for a kiss, but he turns us back to the path with a smug look of satisfaction. “What’s your favorite place in Arberly?” he asks, changing the subject, though I can tell it’s his own kind of challenge. He wants to see if he can rattle me. I won’t let him win, won’t let him see he got to me with his deep voice and insinuating remarks, so I swallow down my lust and answer the question.

“Easy, all the bakeries.”

Thorne barks out a laugh. “You and your chocolate cake addiction,” he murmurs. “Anywhere else?” I consider his words, wondering what to tell him. The honest truth is that I don’t have a favorite place in the city, and it spills from my lips like it always has with him.

“I don’t spend a lot of time in Arberly, to be honest. I keep my distance. I don’t want to scare my people, and it’s better that way.”

“I disagree,” he says immediately and resolutely, and I’m shocked by his bluntness. “Your people have more than just respect for you, Laurel. They admire you. Just look at the way the children reacted to you when we visited the school. They weren’t afraid—they were curious.” I lower my eyes, unsure what to make of his statements, but he stops us and again raises my chin to meet his eyes. When I shy away from the truth, he forces me to see, insists I keep looking. Not even Nemesia had the sheer force of will to do that. He continues his speech, eyes locked on mine. “I’ve been in the taverns and shops. Have heard the people speak of you, heard their praises for the programs you’ve implemented in Thayaria. I think they would welcome your presence more often. Just look at how successful the Solstice dinner was.” My throat tightens with emotion for an instant, but I push it away.

“I’ll consider it,” is all I say, but he simply nods and continues our walk.

“Do you have a favorite place in Thayaria that isn’t the palace or Arberly?” He is insistent with his questions tonight, but I like it. This time, the answer comes easily.

“The valley on the other side of the mountains that circle Arberly—Moormyr, it’s called. It’s still the most beautiful landscape I’ve ever seen,” I say with a small smile, thinking of the rolling fields of thayar flowers that always fill me with so much awe and wonder. Thorne smiles, like he can sense the way they bring me happiness.

“What makes them so special?” He rubs circles on my knuckle, the touch automatic from him, like he can’t help but find new ways to touch me, to comfort and soothe.

“The lush green fields dotted with the deep crimson of the thayar flower, circled by white mountain peaks. When the thayar is in full bloom, you won’t see anything but red for miles and miles. It’s extraordinary.”

Thorne smiles down at me. “That sounds special. I hope I can see it sometime.”

“There’s a festival held there on the Spring Equinox. I haven’t gone in a long time, but I used to go every year with my parents. Maybe… maybe we could go this year.” I say the last sentence like it’s a question, soft and tentative, worried about what he might think of me trying to make plans for us so many months in advance. He only squeezes my hand where it rests in his.

“I’d really love that, Laurel,” he says, eyes shining and intense. It’s too much for me, too close to being what I’m so afraid of, so I ask him a question to give me time to think and process.

“What about you? What’s your favorite place in Velmara?”

“Eastern Velmara, where my mother comes from. It’s almost as green as Thayaria, but more tropical.” His eyes look off into the distance, like he’s picturing it even now. “Waterfalls everywhere. I haven’t spent a lot of time there, but every time I do, it makes me feel closer to her.”

“What was she like, your mother?” I ask. He pauses, and I’m afraid I’ve stepped too far. “I’m sorry, that was really personal. I—”

“It’s okay. I love talking about her—no one asks about her anymore, and I wish they would, if only to give me an excuse to remember her. I was just thinking of what to tell you,” he says gently. “She was so kind, and fiercely intelligent. I think that’s what you would have most appreciated about her. I thought she could read my mind, because she always seemed to know what trouble I was about to get into before I did it. But then she would tell me to go do it anyway, just to be careful.” I chuckle, and he looks down at me with his own smile. “She always encouraged me to read and do extra research in the archives. So naturally, I did the exact opposite.”

I laugh brightly. “She sounds wonderful.”

“She really was,” he says, eyes bright. “She would have loved you.” I scoff, but he squeezes my hand. “I really mean it. She would have been shocked by the mating bond, of course, but she would have been so happy I found someone like you. Someone who sees through my antics and doesn’t put up with my bullshit.” My cheeks flush, even as I smile. “That necklace was actually hers, you know.” He nods to the lightning bolt necklace resting on my collarbone. The necklace that I haven’t taken off since the day he gave it to me. “Her father gave it to her when she married my father. She used to tell me she wore it to remind her of me and my lightning power. I found it among her things when I finally searched through them, hidden away with the diary that revealed the truth of her death. It was only then that I learned more about the symbol and what it meant that she wore this necklace every day.” I gently touch the jewelry, feeling unworthy to wear such an important piece of Thorne. He must sense what’s going through my head, because he covers my hand with his where it rests against my neck. “I wouldn’t want that necklace to be anywhere else but right there. And neither would she. It belongs on you, on my mate.” His words are gentle and soothing, and they crack something open inside me I’d been trying to keep at bay.

“I’m still having trouble believing it’s all real,” I admit, the emotions flooding me, making it hard to say anything else.

“I know.” He smiles. “And it’s okay that you need time to process this. Maybe it’s just the impulsive streak Silene always says will get me in trouble, but I’m not struggling at all. Just last night I remembered the way the mist reacted to me when I entered Thayaria. It caressed my face, I swear. Fionn and Silene teased me so much about it when I told them. I thought it had done the same to them. I was sorely mistaken.” His smile and corresponding dimple take my breath away.

“I forgot about that! I felt a weird zap of energy when you entered that I’d never felt before. I just thought it was because my enemy entered.” I give him a wink, and he lets out a deep and full laugh. We continue down the path in silence, brightly colored buildings now on either side of us as we enter the city proper. When we reach the bustling streets, he takes my hand and has us walk single file so we can weave through the crowds of people making their way home for the day. But even as we weave and bob, he never releases my hand. Eventually, we stop in front of a red storefront in the merchant district. It’s been restored already, though many buildings around it are still under construction. Thorne leads me through the front door and into an empty cafe.

“This is Mara’s family bakery,” he explains, and my eyes widen in delight. “Silene and Fionn have been helping them rebuild their store. When we asked if we could use it for a private dinner with the Queen, they practically jumped through the ceiling. And since Mara was still in town, I asked her to whip up an entire cake just for you.” Thorne’s eyes sparkle.

“How did you know who Mara even was?”

“When Sarah brought the cake that day we trained, you mentioned Mara and her family’s bakery. I remembered. It was easy enough to seek Sarah out and ask her how to find the baker who makes your favorite chocolate cake. Then I connected the dots between the family Silene and Fionn were helping and your Mara.” He shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “We have more food than just cake,” he says with a grin, gesturing to a small table in the room’s corner laid with dishes of food and candles.

He pulls my chair out for me, his hands lingering on my shoulders even as he moves away to his own seat. Sitting across from me, he pours a cup of tea, adding the perfect amount of cream, and hands it to me. My heart squeezes at the small gesture. When we each have a plate full of aromatic food, he starts his questioning again, and I realize that this really is a date. I don’t know what I thought it would be, or why I’m surprised, but the normalcy of spending time with Thorne in this way is striking. We could be two regular fae, learning more about one another, just like he said he wished we could be yesterday in the caves.

“How did you end up with Lunaria?”

I chuff. “I was training in The Spined Moors, more inland than where we’ve visited. I felt her presence and was absolutely terrified. She stalked me for hours before I finally glimpsed her. When I realized what was watching me, I aerstepped to the coast, but she followed me there. Every day after that for a month, whenever I would train, she would just appear. If I moved locations, she would follow me. Eventually, I worked up the courage to pet her, and she let me. I asked her if she wanted to come home with me, and I just somehow knew her answer was yes. So, I brought her back to the palace, and she’s been with me ever since.” He looks at me with equal parts incredulity and awe, like I’m the most interesting person in the world.

“I can’t believe you just brought one of the most fearsome wild animals in all the Four Kingdoms home with you after petting her one time.” His eyes convey both terror and humor.

I shrug. “That’s the best part of being so powerful. I’m usually pretty sure I’m the real predator in any situation.” I say the words as a joke, but I watch his face for any sign of fear or recoil. His expression reflects nothing but respect “Did you ever have any pets?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the feelings building in my chest.

“Other than Fionn, no.” I roll my eyes.

“How are Fionn and Silene taking everything? Do you think they really believe us?” I ask.

“Silene does. She’s still sighing in hopeless romanticism every half hour.” I chuckle with the image of a dreamy eyed Silene. “Fionn is harder to read. I think he’s still skeptical but trusts me to make the decisions that are right for me.”

“I’m envious of the family you’ve found with Silene and Fionn,” I say quietly, thinking of the loss of my own found family. Thorne takes my hand.

“They see you as their family too, you know. Silene especially.” Once again, emotion tightens in the back of my throat, but I push it away.

“Don’t do that,” Thorne says.

“Do what?”

“Push away your emotions. I see you push it down, try to hide it away. Your feelings are safe with me. You don’t have to be the stalwart leader, or the Witch Queen, or whoever the fuck else the world expects you to be. Just be Laurel. The good, the bad, the emotional… I want every part of you.” My throat clenches and I let the mask crack just a little. He strokes my fingers as I wonder what the catch is. Wonder what flaw he might have that will bring this all crashing down. The smallest flutter of hope ignites in my chest. “How are you feeling today about Nemesia?” he asks, and a hollowness returns to my gut thinking about her.

“I don’t know. Betrayed? Angry? Hurt? It’s still so hard to believe. I told the Council today and put the order out for her arrest if she enters Thayaria.”

“And how did the Council take the news?”

“They were shocked of course, but the topic of conversation focused primarily on how I received the information.” Thorne’s shoulders tense, waiting for me to continue. “I told them of our alliance and scheme. Many are furious that I lied to them. I suspect there will be more to deal with on that front later. For now, the three of you are going to work with seven of my advisors to plan our next move on the rebels, while secretly looking for any information that might tell us if Nemesia was working alone.”

He nods. “It’s a good plan.”

“It was Silene’s,” I admit, and he chuckles.

“Of course it was. Is that why she mysteriously disappeared this morning and wouldn’t tell us where she was going?” I laugh, and a warmth builds in my chest that she would keep my request secret from them and only between us, like I’m just as much her friend as they are.

“Yes,” I say with a sheepish look. “I asked for her advice today. She agreed it was time to tell the Council everything and hatched this plan for me in about five minutes.”

“I continue to be amazed by how forthcoming you are with your advisors. My father would never tell them his plans so openly, even in a scheme to draw out a mole.”

I shrug. “I was crowned when I was twenty years old, with no experience or knowledge of what I was doing. I’ve had to rely on advisors my entire life. I learned the lesson too many times that I don’t always have all the answers, even if I need to pretend I do. Listening to others is a critical part of ruling. Even if there is another mole on the Council, there’re dozens of advisors who are loyal.”

He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Many would have done differently in your shoes, even at twenty. You’re remarkable.” An emotion I can’t place swims in his eyes, but I shy away from it, dropping my eyes to our hands again despite his request not to push away how I’m feeling. He only lifts my chin with two fingers as he’s done so many times before, meeting my gaze with a probing stare. “During your rule, as you’ve been setting up the Council of Advisors and creating hundreds of programs for citizens and training your magic and doing all the incredible work I see you do regularly—what in all of that makes you happy? When are you the happiest, Laurel?”

His question takes me aback, and not just because no one has ever asked me it before. I’ve never asked myself the question. Happiness is for normal people, not for leaders running an isolated kingdom because of their own failure. Words pour out of me, unbidden, like they always do when he gets me alone and asks me these impossible questions.

“I didn’t have time to be happy— don’t have time to be happy. I’m too busy trying to be the leader Thayaria deserves, too busy trying to solve every problem that arises. There’s so much work to do and too many people who depend on my decisions. The weight of it—” My words break off. Thorne remains silent, a steady presence as I sort through the emotions bubbling to the surface after he’s flayed me open. “It’s a lot of responsibility to bear,” I finally say. “I have to be strong. Happiness is optional.” Thorne’s lips purse and his eyes turn downward, the expression too close to pity for my liking. He opens his mouth and I’m sure is about to tell me my answer is bullshit or, even worse, to tell me how sorry he is for the life I’ve led, and I don’t want either of those things from him. So, I pull a page out of his own book, changing topics rapidly with a fake grin and a wink I know he sees through. “No one feels sorry for the Witch Queen.” His expression remains studious. “Where’s this cake? I’ve eaten enough regular food,” I say with enthusiasm.

He laughs, playing along with my silent plea to leave our feelings behind us, then stands to retrieve the cake from behind the counter. He sets it in front of me, then hands me a fork. “It’s all yours.” I dive in.

When we finish our dinner, we take the long walk back up to the palace. Thorne continues to pepper me with questions about small and big things, though nothing quite as harrowing as the question about happiness. When I can get one in, I ask him questions too. The walk passes too quickly, and suddenly we’re at his apartment door. I stand there awkwardly, not sure what to do from here.

“Normally I’d walk you to your door, but as you’re the one with aerstepping powers, I can’t really do that,” he says with a sheepish quirk of his lips, and I laugh.

Holding my hands, he brings me to his chest, wrapping me up in his strong body. I tuck my head under his chin, and he murmurs contentedly as he strokes my back. I could stay here forever, and despite how uncomfortable I feel with the emotions Thorne brings out in me, when I’m wrapped in his arms, inhaling his scent, my mind quiets.

With a squeeze, he releases me, then kisses the top of my head. “Goodnight, witchling,” he says, then enters his apartment and closes the door, leaving me aching for his presence.